


From memories to Trees

by SecretTimeIsHere



Series: The Deities AU [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU is called The Deities, An AU Branching off of DreamTale, I'm not the creator of DreamTale nor claim to be; but it does strongly connect to the story of it, This does talk about death/give hints to graphic death, Work title is different from the AU, smoking warning, somewhat dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21702223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretTimeIsHere/pseuds/SecretTimeIsHere
Summary: "He waited for some monologue about justice, maybe retrieve some older line and tell him how he’s a danger to the multiverse, or how he had ruined his other half’s life. How the continuous war weighted both of them, despite their wings and deadly light bodies.If only Dream knew he just wanted this war to end."THIS DOES TALK ABOUT DEATH/ GIVES HINTS TO GRAPHIC DEATH(A story branching from DreamTale and connecting to it. No, not all the characters are Deities, only Nightmare and Dream are.)
Relationships: None
Series: The Deities AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564279
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	1. Cooling comfort, Scalding anger

The two stood still, lost in what to do. Staring at each other, blocking out the ruble and obvious destruction and chaos around them. An indescribable numbness bubbled the two from existence, too distracted by their hate and rivalry to care about much else. Their ears were ringing, a loud and long beep filling the void of usual clashing weapons and air blowing past them. The crashing and tumbling of buildings in the distance went unnoticed, structures of all kinds summiting to the laws of gravity.

Only their panting and fastly beating souls were heard, magic pulsing to keep the heated battle going and lungs furiously trying to follow but only working to make their bodies burn brighter with pain and fury. If fury was energy, they’d both be bright blue stars.

Their wings were tired from the flying throughout the whole of their battle, keeping them airborne with the only attached string being their panging exhaustion.

The smell of blood filled their noses, a small nod to the body count around them. The sense seeming to only increase as their sight stopped blaring white noise and the numbness around them faded, letting them hear the sounds of destruction settling and of lives giving in to Death. If he had contacts with the Reapers, he would greatly apologize for the count and overtime.

Dust and dirt blew in the wind, stinging their eyes and coating their bodies in a transparent sheet of carnage.

They could feel the marrow run down their heads like a slow pace stream as their bodies started to be pushed down by gravity and fatigue. The adrenaline rush of anger passing through. Their magic settling and aura’s calming. Cold Arctic temperatures heating to something more normal, more familiar, but more uncomfortable.

He felt his scorched wings ever so slowly relaxed and curl around his beaten body protectively, the same way they sat most the time, seemingly knowing how defensive their owner was. His opponent, on the other hand, stayed guarded, refusing to back down or believe the fight had ended.

He waited for some monologue about justice, maybe retrieve some older line and tell him how he’s a danger to the multiverse, or how he had ruined his other half’s life. How the continuous war weighted both of them, despite their wings and deadly light bodies.

If only Dream knew he just wanted this war to end.

A dark portal reeking of corruption and negativity opened behind him, and he walked back into it, watching Dream until his body disappeared and was replaced by his home, his body lurching as he felt the comfort of cold freeze his wounds over.

The skeleton stood still, letting his burning lungs and stinging injuries cool with the icy air, his old friend’s expression burning in his mind just to spite him. The fiery glare melting him into a puddle of agony and shame, the frown twisted in a way that it stayed in its place like stone, unloving and disbelieving.

His mind flashed to a time when it wasn’t like that, when both of them were happy, before they were guardian angels of the tree, even before they rejoiced in Death’s realm where they no longer owned pain, back when it was just them and a hospital room.

Although things could never be like that again, he’ll just forever be stuck alone.

His body soon grew dangerously icy, his wings going stiff but body basking into the comforting cold of his forest nonetheless. The crunch of his bare feet in the snow as he moved them from side to side, trying to get some feeling back into them so he could walk home.

Thankfully, he managed to get some magic pumping into his one of his lower legs and trudged forward, wearing his wounds and horrifically mangled remains of his body proudly. His endurance the only thing keeping him standing.

The walk was long, as he had meant it to be. No one was going to break into his one place of safety. Barge into the one place, the only place he can share with the few he has and call home.

His vision was glazing over as he reached the fixed up shack of a house that he owned, snow speckled about his from his skull to skeletal toe. He shakily pulled the door open and was greeted by a sudden feeling of nearly overwhelming warmth, a large and layered knitted blanket wrapped him up like a monster burrito and a few skeletons were hugging him.

After carefully poping his annoying wings out of the way, he hugged them back the best he could. Reveling in their warmth and comfort. The only family he has, the only one he will ever have.

They pulled him over to their old and weathered couch, feeding him food and cuddling him close.

His thoughts pulled away by a sudden feeling of someone tapping on his cheek, the sludge covering it and his body undisturbed.

He looked over to who poked him and then looked around to all the concerned faces.

“Nightmare…?” One of his sons asked, words somewhat hesitant to ask, as if afraid of the reaction. He smiled and looked over at the questioner.

“Thank you, all of you.” The fallen angel finally spoke, voice soft, but deep, slightly gurgling. A symptom from his corruption or from his drowned body, he didn’t know.

They smiled and hugged him tighter, and he held them closer. Drifting to a place that owned a name he never wished to utter. A name he only dared remember in his thoughts, and a person who hated him more than anyone else.


	2. Home sweet home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sucky chapter and a day late, but here

He awoke to the smell of breakfast being cooked and the smoke of pinewood burning. The room felt warm, heat licking at his bones. His sons must have moved him while he was asleep, for he was sure they had all fallen asleep on the couch and not by their fireplace.

He could hear the faint sizzling of bacon and something boiling, the sound of batter being flipped. From the smell and the aura of innocent excitement from his boys, they were having chocolate pancakes.

Opening his eye, he was laying on his side, reclining in an armchair. His jet-black, torn and aged wings draped over him and a thin light blanket tugged between them and his body. Lifting the wing covering his face, he grimaced at the light as it burned his eye magic.

Groaning, he moved and covered his face once more.

“Mornin’, Dad,” One of his troublesome but adorable sons spoke, voice gruff but welcoming.

He let out a noise akin to “Morning”, carefully getting up as he did so, as to not hurt his wings. At first, his vision was filled with white noise but then it started to clear, and he could see Horror, a sans he had helped, cooking breakfast on a grill over a fire and the boiling pot hung over it as well.

The bacon and chocolate pancakes he was right about, but in the boiling pot were some eggs and syrups, both berry and chocolate. Kept warm in the water and bobbing up and down in the heated current.

On the couch, another two he helped sat together, Dust and Cross, the former marking a chart of some kind and the latter drawing away in a sketchbook. Half of his was here, the other one nearly never comes around, another visits weekly, and the third is around all the time. He should at the least be able to find Killer.

“Looking for our final Quadruplet, Night?” Horror teased, his single electric red-eye soft and expression conveying he was teasing, a single eyebrow lowered and another raised.

His son had pulled back the curtains for him and now stood by the window seal, checking on the plants growing and making sure they were well-watered and tended to. When he got no verbal response, his son moved back to sit in front of the fireplace, going back to focusing on breakfast.

“Kills is sleeping in our room, waiting for me to get started on the coffee.” Horror gave a chuckle, and Nightmare couldn’t help but laugh along if they ever got attacked in the morning…

...He didn’t want to think about that.

“Sleep well pops?” Dust asked, dressed casually and looking up from what looked like a star chart every now and again.

“Yeah, thanks for turning me onto my side, whoever did that.” Nightmare smiled gratefully. While he could sleep on his back, it was always a pain to get up and  _ not _ tear his few feathers up more, so generally, he slept comfortably on his front or side with his wings draped over him. 

Sometimes he wished they were magic and not physical. Always a pain to deal with, at least killer had taken to customizing their furniture for him. Wing rests and open areas in chairs and couches for him.

“That was me.” Cross shyly admitted, “You mentioned how uncomfortable your back was some time ago and it kinda stuck with me, so I tried to make sure you were comfy.” He smiled brightly, his kindness showing.

The fallen angel nodded in thank you as he was handed a plate full of breakfast, Horror setting the syrups on the coffee table-as well as salt for the eggs. A kettle whistled and he moved back, setting the heated metal on a hot pad and heading back to the hallway to wake up Killer.

“How’d the battle go yesterday?” Dust asked again, clearly worried as they hadn’t gotten to heal Nightmare’s injuries before he fell asleep the night prior.

“Not bad, but not great for me either, so as per normal.” The hated King of darkness summarised, not able to find it in himself to insult or slander Dream’s name, despite all that has happened between them the past centries.

He can see the end of the thread, where he is now, and the beginning, preventing him from ever cursing his opposite’s name. However, in between the end and the beginning, there was a mess of knots, all trying to connect to the past and pulling back on his future. Only when he found his boys was he able to move past that.

A portal opened and a tall glitching skeleton stepped through with a shorter colorful one, both he recognized as family, the rest of his boys.

The glitched skeleton was another he had helped, although, at the start of it, the skeleton in question refused any support at all. Barely listening to anything he said or accepting nay help in his phobias or issues. Over time, thankfully, they had been able to work through it. The error even helping him out some, even if that little bit of help meant the gang started to see him as a father to all of them as well.

Error and he just happened to have that little trait in common, protecting and keeping their own safe. Both of them showed it off often, Error taking care of his shorter friend, Fresh when the misunderstood skeleton needed help and he taking care of his boys.

Fresh was different than Error, however, extremely so. While both were drastically misunderstood and been labeled as thankless and heartless, Fresh had an onslaught of issues and did a terribly great job at hiding them all.

It seemed like every few times he came over they’d find another thing to help him with, and the more they helped him, the more willing he became to getting help and trusting them with his problems. They were so close to convincing him of permanent stay with them, off the streets and into a home of warmth, a house full of nourishment and love for him to get better.

Before Error or Fresh could say anything, Horror came back down the hall with a grouchy but half asleep Killer in his arms, the ever permanent tear tracks down his skull, something they were trying to find a solution to.

Cross, smiling widely and looking a little coky, poured hot water into a cup already set out and poured the coffee mix in, stirring it in and making sure it was perfect before wafting it in Killer’s face, an innocent smile on his obviously teasing actions.

As Killer nearly tackled Cross for his beloved coffee, Nightmare turned his attention to Error and Fresh, seeing how nervous Fresh was-who was still not used to the play fighting between his boys. Although Error owned a small smile at the cleaver and coky teasing Cross had displayed while also smiling at his punishment of getting tackled, arms crossing and posture laid back, a rare sight by the usually paranoid skeleton.

“How are you guys doing?” Nightmare asked as his boys started to take the fight outside, knowing that if they broke any of the few belongings they had that they’d likely get scolded. “Feel free to grab some food, Horror just finished it.”

Error turned his attention to Nightmare, but then moved his line of sight to the chocolate pancakes, making Night chuckle lightly at his reaction, his white eyelight in the shape of a heart and a tongue poking out to lick at his teeth in hunger for the chocolate.

“Don’t worry,” Horror butted in, falling back into the couch and grabbing a plate to start dishing up, “I made plenty for all of us, just make sure you leave some chocolate for Cross, he’ll go bonkers otherwise.”

The glitched skeleton face grew a bit blue but he nodded anyway, pulling up a chair and starting to dish himself up as well, dragging along a chair for Fresh as well and making sure he got a plate full to eat.

  
  


\-----

  
  


His wings were alway the toughest to heal, but necessary for his battles in the air, so he had to find ways to heal them nonetheless. Nightmare was grateful for the extensive knowledge BirdTale had of healing wings, as well as the different ailments they owned, lucky for him he found something that actually worked-aside from straight healing magic of course.

Although, the rest of his body was always difficult to heal as well, and often times when he needed healing magic the most hos reserves were low, exhausted by battle.

“Need some help, ‘Mare?” A glitching voice asked, words repeating and sentence jumpy, but before he could reply or ask what Error was doing in his makeshift office, the god walked in and sat by Nightmare. “Here, doubt your levels have stabilized yet.”

With minimal effort, Error called forth his magic, healing the wounds he could reach, holding Nightmare tightly by his shoulder and an eye flaring red-but glitching back to blue on occasion. Finding no point in protesting, the negative being let his ally heal him, going back to tending to his wings.

A faint aura of relief washed off his friend.

“At least you’re letting me help you this time,” He started, pulling his hand back and taking his grip of Nightmare’s shoulder, all reachable wounds healed, “You should let us help you more.”

Error left soon after that, and Nightmare didn’t know whether to listen or to let his unhealthy habit roam free.


	3. One sided

It had been a brilliant day relaxing in the village, nothing felt out of place. Everyone was happy. Loving his aura.  _ Loving him _ .  _ His _ friends.  _ His _ life. One by one people left as night began to fall.

After the last person left, he made his way home as well, going back to the tree he might as well protect alone. The pathetic guardian that was supposed to guard the tree with him only ever sitting up in it. Ignoring the world and annoying him.

He flew over the village, his small wings barely keeping him in the air, but working to do their job. The cool air blew through his wings as the sky went darker and darker. Sweeping low through the empty streets and through the gate to the winding path that lead home.

The heavy gates opening with an eery squee, a childishly happy smile wide on his skull. His yellow-tinted wings and eyes lighting his path and making everything just a little brighter.

The clouds pushed their way into the dim sky, the sun disappeared and the moon taking its reign.

The squelch of liquid and friction shocked him for a moment, no rain in sight all-day

He looked down and felt his dinner come up.

Blood stuck and clung to the sole of his shoe, threatening to dye the pure yellow boot. Trailing from a teenager he knew well, laying face down in the grass, arms town and thrown yards away.

Running away from the body he nearly slipped, more corpses and dust creating a bread crumb trail off the path…

Off to where his tree was.

Running off towards the tree, he felt rage boil in his soul.  _ How dare he _ .

Stopping at the top of the hill, he looked at his fellow guardian. The dark corrupted form- a wave of glitches overtook the corrupt figure and replaced it with the small skeleton he knew. Tears dotting the corners of his eyes, lip quivering.

“D-Dream-?!” The guardian’s hand extended, reaching for him as he was pulled away from his NightLight.

Gasping he woke up, the feathers on his angel wings standing on end. The second taloned pair of wings blocking his smaller spread wide in mock fear.

He was alone.

A gallows laugh escaped his jaws. His body curling and hands carefully placed, trying not to get poked by his pathetically small pricks of horns.

Minutes late Blue came rushing in. Shushing and mothering Dream to calm down.

“That’s it,” The swap sans spoke, Dream looking up at him, “We’re joining you next battle whether you like it or not.”

\-----

  
  


Trudging back into his AU, he portalled closer to home than normal. Falling yards from his door. Face planting into the snow.

Near passing out, he heard the door slam open and his bys pick him up, carrying him into his room and start to heal him.

Bandaging his wounds and getting him awake again.

Opening his eyes all his boys surrounded him, Fresh sadly not in sight, but Error standing by his bedside as well.

“Dad… what happened to you?” One of his boys-Cross-asked

“Dream has a team now...” Night managed, barely coughing out the words.

“Should we train to help you?” Killer suggested, Nightmare shook his head, “They’re demolishing you out there! You need some sort of backup! No offense Pops.”

Nightmare still shook his head, refusing to let his children be out fighting battles.

“Night,” Error interrupted softly, “I’m afraid that they’re likely right. While  _ I _ could give you back up, I’m not always around.”

The guardian gave it some thought, but eventually, nodded his head.

“Alright,” Error smiled, “Let’s get training.”


	4. Goodbye home

The day started out like normal, Nightmare waking up to near all his boys pilled up on or around him, telling them to get off only to sleep in another hour. A normal morning. 

“Alright you all, its really time to get up,” Nightmare roused, letting a smile pull at his mouth as he heard his boys’ cheeky giggles. Opening his eyes, he turned his smile into a smirk, “Should I just get up?”

A chorus of “Yes!” sounded out, and slowly but surely, he got up with all his boys on him. Sure, he felt like he was carrying near half a dozen hundred pounds, but it made his boys happy. Carefully, he went through the doorway fo his room and out to their kitchen, two boys hanging from his arms and another two from his wings.

Soon they got breakfast done and Error visited, claiming Fresh was relaxing in the AntiVoid, winding down after going through another false attack. However, by lunch, he knew something was off.

“Dad...?” Cross asked, a worried, but curious look on his skull, “Something wrong?”

Nightmare looked to his boys, each one looking worried to his sudden silence, he looked over to Error. Giving him a look that he’d hope would say what he wanted.

Error slowly shook his head, and he nodded his own.

“Everyone, pack up your belongings, quickly. We’re evacuating, and we may not come back.” Nightmare moved to the window, and carefully pushed back the curtain, “Someone’s here, and I don’t know who.”

Quickly, everyone ran to their shared rooms, grabbing the few clothes and possessions they had-shoving them into roughed up backpacks.

Nightmare gathered up his belongings as well, clearing his room of pictures and gifts. Grabbing clothes and stuffing his old crown into the bottom of his bag, not wanting to look at it, but not strong enough to leave it behind.

Running up to his office, he pulled out any folders, any plans he had for shopping or to keep balance. Shoving the folders into another backpack. If it was Dream, he wasn’t letting him see his plans. He wouldn’t give him any advantage.

“NIGHT!” Error yelled, “I have the portal open- let’s go!”

The fallen angel rushed downstairs and jumped through the portal just as the door slammed open, Error ran through as well, closing it as Dream’s screech of frustration echoed through his eardrums.

They landed in a vast, empty world, his mind registering something else as well.

He quickly ran over to Cross, who was hyperventilating and starting to have a panic attack. He quickly wrapped him in his black, burned, and torn wings. Slowly, they sat down, and his son started to calm.

If only he realized it sooner. Cross was still so afraid of the AntiVoid, the endless white-no matter who was with him-would simply engulf his mind. It’d take time and rest, but he could recover from an attack.

Error quickly used his magic to create a box around them out of his blue string, blocking out any white. Curtains for windows, and one large one for the door. He left an area open in the middle, so hopefully, they could make a fire there and get some warmth and light.

“What’s the most I can do sadly,” The destroyer started, walking over to where Nightmare and Cross were sitting, walking past Fresh who was waking up from a nap. “We need to find a new place soon...”

“We could try looking?” Killer prompted, getting comfy on the string made floor, smiling when Error tossed a knitted blanket to him. The AntiVoid could get ridiculously cold over time.

“I don’t mean to offend, but no,” Error denied, shaking his head. Dust and Killer pouted, wanting to help. Error gave them a look, “We have yet to fully train you in combat, so Nightmare or I will always be around, just in case anyone finds this place.”

Horror gave a firm nod, agreeing, none of them knew how to hold their own in battle, yet, mainly protecting and creating chaos whenever they helped in battle. None of them even knew how to weaponize their magic yet.

“I’ll start looking at the empty copies I haven’t gotten to yet, they’re small enough to not be noticed and some have enough to sustain life.” Error explained, plopping down on the string covered ground and opening a window to the AUs. Swiping through and looking for any place suitable.

Nightmare gave a small nod, too much running through his mind.

What if they anything behind? How long would Cross going to be able to last in here? How would they keep food, time, even cook?

A bit of weight leaned on him, and he looked over, seeing his boys huddled around him-Fresh already sleepily clinging to him. Fully opening his wings to his gang, he letting them all cuddle into him and cover their cold bodies with his warm feathers. Subtly covering Cross’s eyes as well.

“You should get some rest Night,” Nightmare looked over to the destroyer, locking eyes with him, “I’ll be up for some hours longer, we can trade-off then.”

Nodding again, the angel let himself drift off, relaxing in the comfort of his boys’ weight and their living breaths.

  
  


\-----

  
  


The swap sans looked around the old house as Dream screamed his magical lungs out, their other team member trying to calm him down as much as he could.

“We were so close!” He screamed further, greatly frustrated by missing his greatest enemy, “UGGHHH!!”

“Dream, calm down!” The other sans, Ink-a guardian of the AUs-tried to calm down, “They could’ve left something helpful to us behind-”   
  


“Like heck, they would!”

“Not so fast Dream,” The swap sans, nicknamed Blue, reasoned, “Maybe Nightmare left some plans behind, we can see where they’re going next? Or find out anything about his team and who they were?”

Dream snarled, his horn tipped wings curling in on himself as he accepted Blue’s reasoning, dropping himself onto one of the couches in the living room. The swap-verse sans taking that as an ok to look around.

Calmly, he looked and walked around, immediately noticing some off items. Questions growing in his mind. Why would the furniture be so adapted for wings? Especially if Nightmare was the only one with them. Even Dream was trying not to aw at how well it worked for him, even with his smaller angel wings hidden behind his massive demon ones. Even BirdTale didn’t have furniture like this, although they were working towards it. At least they knew someone had some carpentry and carving skills. Maybe Dust or Killer? They both seemed to use knives, although poorly.

The makeshift kitchen held some questionable items as well, cookbook and unfinished spirals left behind, dating to days before. Notes of recipes and how to make them better, to cook them differently, to change them to something different entirely. Such simple cooking tools strewn about the countertops and in the cupboards, but complex and well-developed recipes stating otherwise.

The rooms held more questions, even more cookbooks spirals carving materials and carpentry tools as well as books. Although there were other things in the small dorm-like rooms. Some art supplies were hidden in the back of a closet, the same room as the carpentry supplies, Ink talking about a sans named Cross that the supplies could’ve belonged to.

“Nightmare took C away from me, he was supposed to stay in his world- ...I guess he took up carpentry and practiced his art more since I last saw him.”

The room that had the cookbooks also had star chart posters and scientific books left behind. Spirals full of theorem and equations. Maybe they took an OuterTale sans? No, if anything, those sans’ wanted to get out of space, not study it and its theorem more.

Another room puzzled him more. Knitting and sewing supplies, materials and fabrics put away in drawers, neatly organized. Jackets and clothes left in the closet, half colorful the other half staler. Like a child and grandparent sharing a room.

The final room seemed to be the master room, although he had yet to see the upstairs. Nothing was left from what he could tell, all torn away quickly. Going upstairs, however, showed him a new light. Cracked and accidentally left behind, lay a framed picture on the floor. The Carving handmade, but stars showing that the carver had some help, some smaller designs of cooking carved into it as well. The picture in it drawn and title for “Dad”

_ What were they missing? _


	5. Starting anew

Cautiously, he walks around the destroyed AU, his sworn enemy long since gone. Broken asphalt crunching under his bare crimson boned feet. The fog of monster dust and dirt making his vision worse than it already was. The taste of blood in his mouth familiar. The numb feeling of a broken limb welcome. The scratching of his dirty clothes expected.

Looking around, the glitching skeleton checked to make sure the code of the world was destroying itself, one less world-a little more balance. The Void slowly ate away at the meal it was offered, the solid black blocks burning the wood foundation of the AU and catching fire. Destroying everything faster than he ever could.

Quickly, as to not get swallowed by the Void, he opened a portal to a random AU, intending to make another portal to the AntiVoid when he got there to get back to where his own was hiding. However, when he landed on the random island of code, he was taken aback.

“This...” Error’s glitching voice jumped, looking in awe at the AU, “... this would be perfect.”

It was a small mass of land, something that would be similar to a needle in a lake if anyone were to ever find it out of all the worlds in the multiverse. The means to support life clear, trees growing in mass on hillsides, a sunken valley in the middle. Animals could be heard off in the distance. The sound of far-away rushing water. Although, while all of that was great, and could make for an amazing place to live on its own. What made it perfect sat in the middle of all of it.

A large building stood tall and proud, an old several story mansion that looked far beyond disrepair, but with proper work, could be livable. Crooked doors and cracked path in front, a large baren garden surrounding a patch of grass in the middle. Running down the hill and into the house, he investigated it. Looking around at everything. Where the kitchen was, bathrooms, living spaces, bedrooms, studies. Was it salvageable? Does anything need to be replaced?

There were plenty of bedrooms. Large ones and guest ones. They could each have three to themselves and still have just over a hundred to spare, he might just live full time outside the AntiVoid if they end up staying here. Not to mention the giant kitchen that Horror would love, and the garden Nightmare would adore. They could probably even transform the ballroom into a training room.

He had to go and tell Night.

Running into a new portal, he made his way into the makeshift house of string they had been staying in. Finding the skeleton he was looking for under a pile of sleeping bodies, their wings wrapped around all of them. Without hesitation, he woke the King of Darkness up.

“...Error?” The goopy skeleton sleepily asked, rubbing his eyes as he woke up.

“I found a place.”

“ _ What. _ ” Nightmare immediately woke up, “Wait, are you sure? What’s it like.”

“Very habitable. Rivers and animals everywhere. It’s small, maybe even a pebble in an ocean small. There’s a mansion in the middle of all of it. Large kitchen and multiple living spaces. Dozens of bedrooms, bathrooms and a few studies sprinkled around.” The destroyer explained, “There’s a large garden out back too.”

Nightmare single eye started to twinkle, subtly changing into a star. 

“Let’s go then!” The rest of the gang started to wake up as their dad got up, asking what was going on as Error continued to excitedly explain everything to them.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Soon, they had all moved into their rooms, even if they still slept all together, and still did their best to pile on Nightmare every morning. Even sooner than they moved in did “slumber parties” become a common thing, as well as having movie nights in one person’s room or another but most often in one of their living rooms. One they specifically dubbed and changed to the theatre room. Making it more of a hangout, a walk-in-closet off to the side where they kept all their movies, which they started to collect more of, and video games.

Everyone claimed their rooms quickly, find a group of larger bedrooms huddled together on an upper floor. Error even claiming one and getting Fresh to claim one as well. However, just as Nightmare was about to humbly take a small room, he was shoved into the master bedroom. Why? As he was told or rather yelled through the door as they managed to lock it from the outside on him: he deserves it because he’s the Dad of them and has done so much for all of them-plus, there was a giant circular bed inside it for Night’s wings. Error even promising to make a large hammock up in the high ceiling of the room eventually.

So, regretfully, he moved into the room. The big bed serving to be great for his wings and also great for his boys to snuggle with him, and, as his fellow dad promised, Error made several hammocks up high in the tall ceiling of the room, and slowly, he learned to enjoy the royally large quarters. However, he did take another, much smaller room. Off in a different wing of the mansion, he found a room that was once a knowledgable study. Bookshelves covering the walls, only spacing for large old fashioned windows that held comfortable love seats and chairs. Perfect for reading.

A large, office like desk sat in the middle of the study, and even more rooms off to the side that held empty file cabinets upon empty file cabinets. Some of the bookshelves even had empty glass cases, or empty shelves, plenty of room to make homey.

As he finished moving into the two rooms he claimed as his, he was pulled away to each of his boys’ rooms. Each one different and special.

First, Cross had dragged him away, pulling him into a room that had walls covered in drawings, organizers full of art supplies, and walls painted in beautifully clashing colorful patterns. Likely to make up for all the time they had spent in the AntiVoid as of late.

Second, Dust had pulled him away. The skeleton had taken a room with a balcony, a telescope already set up and comfy chairs ready to be used and likely slept in on a long night of marking the new sky above them. How many constellations? What regions? Who knew- Dust would find out. Likely with Cross and Error’s combined efforts, Dust had his walls painted like a galaxy. Different planets marked with notes, stars mapped out with charts. A desk strewn with different materials and books already. A chemistry set sat in the corner, a glass cabinet next to it locked for safekeeping.

Soon after they began training everyone, Dust tried something a little new. Chemistry. Smoke bombs and paint canisters meant to blow up with precise timing. So far, their little scientist was doing well. Even managing to start working on better healing ailments for all of them.

Third was Horror, excited to show off all the plants he added in his windowsills, having taken a corner room. The walls were painted a calming green with different green plants sprinkled across, and the room smelt of flowers. Bookshelves of cookbooks and gardening tips were carefully put away, and a comfy large couch sat in a corner, a minifridge with water and cold snacks as well as a small cabinet of shelf snacks stood next to the couch.

Fourth was Killer, who had taken longer to organize everything but ended up with bins slightly tipped on pipe racks to hold all of his carvings and the different woodblocks he had. A pile of pillows sat innocently in the corner, Killer demonstrating their use by taking a running start and jumping into them, sighing happily as he sunk into all of them. A desk prepared with a large bin next to it for wood shaving was shoved to the wall, bookshelves and glass display cases crowded the walls. The room was painted a dark grey-blue, near deep storm blue.

Next, Error brought Fresh to him, Fresh too shy to ask if Nightmare wanted to see his room himself. Unsurprisingly, at least to Nightmare and his gang, Fresh’s wall were painted a soft pink. Plush’s stacked neatly in several corners, and a TV with dull neon beanbags was pushed off to the side.

Finally, Error brought Nightmare to his room, nothing much of note added. The walls were painted grey with graceful swirls of blue red and yellow. Several bean bags and Hammocks were set around the place, and a large shelving unit, as well as a couple of organizers, were stuck against walls and in corners. A desk sat with drawings on it and sketches for clothing designs or some new knitting idea Error wanted to try.

At last, they have a home of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is so late, I just couldn't write at all last week. Now I'm trying to push through it and, considering I wrote Chapter 2 for Season two of the King and his aid as well as most of this chapter (roughly, maybe 2.5K words together?) in one day, I think I'm able to make it through it.


	6. Roots of memories

Buildings around them clashed as he fought that damned demented demon of a fallen angel, how he even managed to save his sorry hide and claim a title better than who he was still angered him to this day. It’s a mockery of the kind person he used to know before the events of the tree.

The wind flew by as their weapons clashed. His staff light despite the heavy memories of its creation. A flash of a memory distracting him from their battle. Tendrils struggling to hit his body, most blocked, few hitting their target.

That angry scowling face. The single striking eye. The expression of greed that took over and stole his friend. Unsalvagable.

Eventually, as temper grew low and the rage of battle slowed, they retreated. Upset to not last as long as they usually would.

“Dream-” He heard his name called as he stalked towards his room, not bothering to listen. Injuries or no, he just needed a nap. His large taloned wings dragging behind him. His small fluffy wings falling down as well, gently covering the connection point of his wings and the open back of clothes.

Slamming the door as he walked into his barren bedroom he crash-landed onto his wide bed. His wings resting beside him as he pulled his pillow towards him. Knocking him out as soon as he got comfortable.

Flying over the town, past its walls, the dream repeated. Walking along the path. The bodies. Running toward the tree. Seeing that corrupted demon. The flash of what he used to be. The Night terror continued.

The solid, cold embrace of stone. Solitude. Isolated. The feeling of being so alone crushing him. He had never been alone. He couldn’t be alone. It hurt- It was crushing-

The grey suffocating him broke. Crashing around him like window panes. The sorry and tired expression of the monster he was fighting just minutes ago looking at him woefully. Things slowed down.

The cracked face. Two-sided. His mind shifting the monster he knew well. One side showing the demented face he knew was true… and the other showing a tired expression of a parent. Someone that greatly cares. Making sacrifices for the people he loves. A face that showed someone going through life one step at a time.

Showing a face he knew well. Simply covered in the liquid negativity of corruption. Otherwise unaltered.

“Nightmare…?” Dream’s taloned wings fell down in confusion, desperation for some answer clearly written across his face and body language. His small pair of angel wings wrapped around him.

The maskless form of Nightmare walked his way toward him, bare feet clacking across the black floor of the dreamscape.

This weird, unimaginable form of the King of darkness that he barely knew anymore hugged him. His arms and wings wrapping around him.

“I’m sorry… Dec’.” Nightmare whispered into his eardrum.

“ _ Nick _ ?” A flash of a hospital room around them, before Dream woke up.

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Look who’s finally awake and out of his room.” His teammate chuckled, looking behind his back as he leaned on their porch railing.

Dream sighed, plopping down into one of their deck chairs.

“And you’re acting like that ever matters, you freaking thing of creation.” He shot back, giving a half-hearted glare, “Still don’t understand how you don’t have to sleep or eat at all.”

“ ‘Reams,” Ink chuckled, pulling his scarf down to get out of the way of his smoke, “I’m literally a God.” He let out a long drag, “I’m just missing those fancy wings of yours.”

The guardian of positivity gave an exaggerated couple of nods, rolling his eyes to the sky as he did.

“Ya’know… what I don’t get is how  _ you’re _ not a God.”

“Well, I’m somewhat of a demi-god. I think.” Dream shrugged, “Shouldn’t even be alive right now, honestly.”

“That going to stop you from joining me?” Ink tempted, passing an unlit smoke over to his colleague.

“Hell no.” The guardian smirked, eagerly grabbing his coping mechanism.

Too many thoughts. Too many damn memories that he wished he could forget already.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Why. In the world. Did he do that?! The King of darkness paced, trying to come up with some other reason than an old impulse to why he helped Dream. Why he even called him by his old nickname. Everything had been just fine keeping their past buried.

Things had been freaking perfect as they were! But Dream having NightTerrors… he didn’t have any idea on how to handle that information. Did his ex-friend really reminisce about the old times that much? Or at the least, question it?

How did Dream react to him helping? If he reacted at all? Does he have a copping mech too? What if he has a bad copping mechanism too?

Nightmare looked over to the unfinished work he had on his desk, then over to the file cabinet of unfinished plans he had. 

He shouldn’t. He couldn’t overwork himself again…   
  


It would only give him a distraction. It wouldn’t do anything. Just let him think of something else for a bit…

Trudging over to his desk. Nightmare sat down in his chair. Letting himself get comfy as he set to work.


	7. Investigation

_ “Dream?” The skeleton kept his back to him, “Dream?” He asked again, finally getting a short acknowledgment, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a bit now... you doing okay?” The shorter skeleton sat down next to the older. _

_ “Just… thinking I guess.” Dream shrugged, wings drooping, falling into a heap on the couch. Talons poking out the mass of leathery, scaley skin. “I had another dream again, but it was different… the ending was. I was encased in stone… then in broke. Then Nick and I were standing in the Dreamscape.” _

_ “Nick?” Blue questioned, terribly confused. _

_ “I-I mean Nightmare and I were standing in the Dreamscape,” Dream corrected himself, a fire yellow dusting his cheeks at the slip-up. “Nick… Nickolas is Night’s old name. Centuries ago. Before all these stupid powers and wings.” _

_ Sighing, Dream got up, stretching his wings out and walking away. Mumbling something along the line of “I shouldn’t have said anything…” _

Trudging forward in the cold, indefinite-winter woods of their enemies’ old base, Blue set out to investigate. There had to be something more to Nightmare than just some crazed evil villain. If there was something more to Error, a glitch in the system-who the whole multiverse thinks is evil, despite him just protecting the fragile structural balance, than there had to be something more to the hated King of Darkness.

Pushing the beaten-down door open, the swap sans walked into the old run-down cabin. Puddles everywhere from melted snow leaking through the thin wood boards and straw of the roof. He could only hope whatever was left hadn’t been affected by the conditions. 

Walking into the farthest room, he found the carving blocks and art materials again but tried to look further. Any name etched into something, a sign of an owner.  _ Something  _ that could help him. Sitting down on one of the two twin beds, he ran his hand along the backboard. Smooth, completely and utterly smooth, until you reached the very end. The side closest to the wall had a name carved into it. Running along the already imprinted details of the board was written as clear as day: “Killer’s”

He got  _ something _ . There had to be something else left behind. There were two beds, who did Killer share the room with? No name carving. Not even under it or written in marker of the mattress. Checking the closet over, the top shelf had scattered papers left behind. A date, time, and name written in plain handwriting on the back. All the artwork was Cross’. Ink was partially right.

But, does that mean Killer had done all the carpentry work? All the fancy carvings? The etched vines in every doorway? The grass that ran along the baseboard? The flowers that flew up the railing to the second floor?

If Killer had this secret talent, this secret passion, one that was free and open. Like Cross who had his drawings hung around the house, paintings across the walls, what else were they wrong about? Did Nightmare really help the passion grow or did he simply not care what they did in their free time?

The next room proved the same. Cookbooks that had scratchy handwriting that belonged to Horror left behind in the hurry of escaping Blue and the Star sans’. The four-poster bed shoved in the corner having dozens of star charts glued to the top of the canopy. Chemical formulas and spirals of notes of different experiments hidden in the highest corners of the closet. Dust’s printer like handwriting clear in his love for science, possibly enough to make Science Sans jealous.

Rushing to the next room, Fresh’s name written in curvy swooping handwriting in the tag of all of his clothes. Extra shades with different 90’s phrases written on each stored away in a dresser drawer. A sewing machine painted like a galaxy hidden in an unsuspecting box in a corner of the room. Sewing supplies carefully organized and tucked away in the cabinets of the desk. Spools of thread tucked away under the double bed. Those had to be Error’s, he’s the only one that Blue knew could sew and knit. Some of the spools even looked like the color of Error’s string.

The final room… had nothing. Not one hint to one it belonged to. The blankets were mismatched. Pillows old and worn. Mattress sunken. Closet empty. Every drawer empty. Underneath the bed was clean, the walls bare without a single tac or tape mark. Not a single scratch of paint. It looked ready for a college student to move into.

There had to be something. This had to be Nightmare’s room! But, there was nothing. Not a single thing that could say someone had once lived in its dark depressing walls. Desperate for anything, Blue tried anything he could think of, opening the back of drawers, trying to pull out the bottom, a loose floorboard.

The room was wasted by the time he was done.

Exaughtsted and failing his personal mission, he laid down on the bare mattress… to feel something off. Like there was a hole in the middle of the frame.

Jumping up and pushing off the hunk of foam and cotton to see what he’d been looking for. Carefully carved. There was a whole perfect for a box. Now, if he could find that box. The lid was left behind, with the curvy swooping word’s: “Nightmare’s stuff” written on top. Whether it was with the dark King himself or stashed away in the house somewhere, he was determined to find out.

Running upstairs to the office, full of emotion and hope, Blue checked everywhere. Behind every left behind book, under the rug, every floorboard he could reach, into the small and crowded attic, even looking at every bookmark. Only when he rummaged through the desk, did he finally find something.

A drawer that had a false bottom, a large stash of gifts and cards, works all from each of the gang. Every. Single. One. Entitled to: “Dad”

  
  


\-----

  
  


He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, staring into the drawer when someone snuck up behind him.

“Well you’ve really made a mess of the place,” a glitching voice suddenly spoke, “Couldn’t keep your nose out of my family’s stuff, huh?” Hearing the playful tone, Blue whipped his skull around the see Error smiling down at him.

“So… I was right… there’s more to all of you than the multiverse thinks.” Blue spoke softly, still stunned with the new information.

“Common let’s get you out of here… Are you okay with going to the AntiVoid for a few minutes to talk? It’s the safest place we could go to.”

“Yeah… uh, let’s go then.”

Shortly, Error had opened up the portal and the two of them began to talk in the AntiVoid, catching up and the destroyer answering questions about the gang. It felt like too soon someone dropped in on them.

Feeling a portal open, Error quickly stood up, using his body to block Blue from sight and letting his magic spark. Warning anyone that dared come close that they would be getting a one-way ticket to hell if they didn’t back off. Seconds passed and the destroyer’s whole form changed. A stance of protection to a full-body reaction of shock then extreme worry.

“FRESH!” Error’s harsh voice glitched out, the words barely understandable.

Out of the portal had fallen a harshly beat up small skeleton. One he wouldn’t even recognize as Fresh if it weren’t for the broken shades barely covering his eye sockets. Up close, his body was so small and fragile. Young bones with more scars than likey Dream and Nightmare’s age. The marrow and blood rushing out the wounds and dark bruising clashing harshly.

“Alright, Blue come on, I don’t care if we’re supposed to be enemies- I need to get Fresh back to the base and I’m not leaving you alone here again.” Error quickly explained, gathering the much smaller in his arms easily, opening a portal presumably to the hideout, pushing Blue in first.

Straight into the living room.

Where everyone was.

Including Nightmare.

If Error wasn’t right behind him, he would’ve been dust on the spot.

“Blue investigated the house, he understands us, we were talking in the AntiVoid, Fresh is hurt, I couldn’t leave him behind.” Error promptly summarised before anyone could say anything, carefully laying Fresh down on an empty couch, rushing to get his healing magic working to at least stabilize the younger until they gathered, some healing supplies.

Nightmare gave a quick nod before shooting Blue a glare, daring him to do anything or attack them while one of their’s was down, before running off to get something to help Fresh.

  
  


\-----

  
  


It took some hours, but eventually, things calmed down and soon Fresh was healed and asleep in his room. All the boys went back to their bedrooms, getting ready for bed. And Blue, Error, and Nightmare were left alone in the living room.

“I just can’t be with them anymore.” Blue finally spoke, surprising the other two, “They’ve been lying to the whole multiverse about you guys, they hurt Fresh-- …that kid has more scars then either of you have years to your names.” Blue sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“So you’re just going to leave your team? Everything at your base? Aren’t they your friends?” Nightmare asked, turning to his softer side without realizing it.

“Friends? We barely work as a team. Ink and Dream live at the base, I kinda live where ever I can. Lately, I’ve just been living in a small cabin I found in the woods of my AU.” Blue explained, he hadn’t been back to his underswap in years. The code started to glitch over time, and now, he doesn’t even know the AU anymore. His friends are twisted and his brother is possessive and overprotective.

“Well if you want, you can have a place with us...” Nightmare shyly offered, laughing a bit at the stars in Blue’s eyes, “No one deserves to live like that, c’mon, we’ll get you some food and then find an empty room for you.” The King of negativity smiled gently and for a moment, Blue thought back to when things were nicer. His soul swelled with hope.

He happily agreed, giving Nightmare a strong hug without thinking. The dark guardian did nothing but laugh and smile. 


	8. The evil in his eye

“Boys?” Their dark and fearsome parental figure called, poking his head into the kitchen where Blue currently was, spending more time with the terrifying and goofy skeletons of Nightmare’s gang. Life had been, to put it simply, amazing!

It was, really, really awkward at first, but they all quickly put aside their differences. Before he knew it, he had been accepted into the family. It had been ages since he felt so loved. Like he had brothers that cared about him. A lifetime since he had a parent of any sort. Supposedly, Gaster was meant to be his and Papyrus’ father, but nothing linked the three of them aside from their species.

It was weird, different. New. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Life had felt like a daily reset with slight changes for years. His code altered and unaging. Broken off from UnderSwap. Officially an outcode.

Nightmare was kind and gentle, occasionally scolding, but meaning well. Error hadn’t changed, only seeming more comfortable in the fatherly role everyone saw him as. The gang, well, through calm chatter and many sleepovers in each of their rooms, they found qualities in common. Cooking, space, training, crafts.

Soon, even Fresh was comfortable with him. Even finding a common love for fashion.

“Sorry to interrupt all of you,” Nightmare spoke softly, walking over to where everyone was. The gang having decided to make some muffins and gathering in the kitchen. Those who were less skilled in the area of cooking sitting at the island, the table, or lazily standing around.

“No problem, what’s up, Dad?” Dust casually spoke, Blue still trying to get used to hearing what he once thought as the ever emotionless and merciless king of negativity as Dad.

“The balance is tipping, I need help spreading some negativity. If all goes well, it’ll take an hour or two at most.” Nodding at the trivial task, the original first four of the gang headed off, Blue going to join and help them--until Nightmare’s outstretched tendril caught him. Stopping him effectively, “While I appreciated your enthusiasm, Blue,”

Just Blue. No dumb nickname. No hint of underestimation in his voice. No assumption about him. Just caring respect.

“I want you to stay behind and watch the base,” Blue gave a small pout, “Trust me, your time will come… and it would be now, however, I’m also taking Error with me and I need someone to make sure Fresh isn’t aggravating his wounds and is actually getting the rest he needs.” Nightmare gave a nod to the colorful skeleton playing away at his GameBoy father into the room. Fresh being laid down on a decorative coach in the room so he could still be with everyone else but get his rest.

“Alright,” Blue said, saluting, “I understand, I’ll finish the muffins in the meantime!” He smiled happily, the dark king returning it as he ran over to the counter to finish filling the multitude of pans with the quickly thickening batter.

Disappearing just as quick as the lumps in the batter, Nightmare teleported himself away to the scene of the battle where Error had already helped his boys in starting the chaos and negativity. Adding an extra blaster for Cross, throwing extra bone attacks towards Horror’s and Killer’s victims, stealing Kills for Dust so he doesn’t melt from too much Determination.

Just as the balance began to fix itself, their sweet quick outing that had a promise of muffins as a reward turned sour. What was left of the Star Team, now Star duo, showed up. Bringing their firey fury with them. Dream’s wings flaring and threatening yellow-green magic bursting from his hands in a new promise of pain. One that would only be delicious to the giver, not the receiver.

Flying high and up to his enemy, Dream started the battle. Dancing in the air and around attacks. An attack barely missing him as the skeleton he was battling suddenly stopped. Body tied up in string and soul struggling. The blue string branching from everywhere. Floor to underground ceiling.

“Dec’...” He let out, breathless as his wings continued to flap. Keeping him midair.

“They’re both tied Boss!” Error yelled up to him as he looked sorrowly at Dream. “We’re good to go!”

As the last of the balance was fixed, Nightmare felt the goop covering his body neutralize. No longer thinning like it often did when Positivity started to rule the multiverse, and not overflowing like the darkness that threatens to envelop him and the rest of their outcode world. In small tugs, Dream’s body began to be pulled back down to the ground, and their eyes met. Nightmare doing his best to look sincere, and his enemy doing or saying nothing. Just glaring. Daring him to do anything while he was weak. While he had an open spot.

Looking back down, Error momentarily stopped pulling on his string, and he let the two guardians have a moment. Focusing on getting the gang back home and Dream’s accomplice Ink in a holding cell. Just to stay a few days and let the peace last a little longer. A simple routine that they recently began that the Star Sans’ were quick to catch onto.

A short week of isolation as the multiverse stabilized. Three meals a day in a well-kept room. A room repurposed as a holding place. Comfortable bed and bathroom attached. They were evil, but they weren’t  _ that  _ cruel. Even a minifridge full of snacks and water kept stocked. Just in case they needed the energy or got hungry. Compliments of Horror.

“I’m not going to hurt you… you know that I never wanted to.” Nightmare sighed, only getting the continued glare and a snarl back.

“Likely story… bastard.” His enemy barked out, muttering the last word.   
  


“Really? Name-calling? You’ve resorted to such childish means to get under my dead skin?” The dark king deadpanned, “I know we’re stuck in child bodies, but geez.”

Dream only scoffed.

“Just take me already, I don’t want to talk with you.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


“You did what?!” Blue asked, shocked, “They don’t know I’m here! I-If they found out--”

“Even if they did find out,” Nightmare quickly interrupted, “The only dead meat here is the animals in the fridge.” Horror gave a stifled chuckle at the pun, “Right now, it’s to calm them down and let the balance reinstate. Surprisingly, they’re being mostly civilized, feel free to talk to them all you need. There are still bars separating you from them in the room.”

“You could actually join us,” Error included, “We’re going to grab them so we can finally explain  _ things _ . Like the balances and Fresh.” Blue gave a meek nod, gulping.

He needed to do this, but what if they took it wrong?

They’d already accused Error of brainwashing once, wouldn’t be too hard to point the finger again. Blame it on the scapegoats.

Would he be a scapegoat too now?

Before his mind could supply him an answer, the door to the holding room was opened, and his ex-teammates were throwing him questions left and right. Why this. When that. All four W’s and the single H.

“How did they brainwash you this time?!”

“There was no brainwashing!” Blue burst out, “There never was! I wish I didn’t have a heart for you two still otherwise I’d call you blabbering idiots that couldn’t see a giant red flag waving in front of their darn eyes!” He yelled, shutting up the Stars in an instant.

Error gave a short few pats to Blue’s head, proud. The kid was finally standing up for himself. On the other hand, Nightmare wrapped a tendril around the younger’s wrist, worried. Those feelings seemed to be bottled for so long. Near forgotten. The negative king couldn’t even feel the emotions hiding under all of the bright skeleton’s optimism.

Tangling the Star duo once again, they dragged them back into the living room, unraveling them and bringing them to a seat on one of the many couches, offering the muffins and water on the coffee table before cutting to the explanation.

Reminding Dream and Ink of the balances. Error even stitching a reminder into Ink’s scarf, knowing through Blue that the artist did wash it often and that included all the notes on it.

First, the structural balance, the one that Error was forced into and Ink was created for. The balance of the Au’s. The fact that the multiverse  _ wasn’t  _ limitless. That every Au was a glass ball in a wooden box. When too many were pushed together, they’d break, and in their situation, it could mean a domino effect.

Second, the emotional balance. The balance that Nightmare  _ gently _ reminded they had promised to protect centuries ago, Dream protesting outright.

“You didn’t seem so keen on protecting and keeping the balance during the times of the tree.” Dream called out, making Nightmare sigh.

“There’s a lot more that happened then what it seems if you want to talk later-”

“NO!” Dream interrupted, standing up, “I’ll just tell my story out right! I  _ know  _ what happened back then.” He emphasized, pointing a finger right into Nightmare’s unfazed face. “When I’m done, then you can tell me,  _ exactly _ what I missed.”

“Alright then...” Nightmare tried to stay calm, voice hissing with the effort. The negative emotions giving a power boost, and his anger boiling over, just wanting to punch his enemy face right then and there. “Start from the beginning.”

And the tale was told. How Dream’s life was very normal, many friends, the village loving him. Learning to fly as high as he could with his small pair of angel wings, back before the demon ones violently grew in.

Then Nightmare refusing to tell him why he was coming home in bruises, gashes. Just simply ignoring it.

“I admit, there could’ve been something there, but you were always climbing high up in the tree and flying above it. Wouldn’t be surprised if you kept falling down that old thing.”

“That ‘old thing’ was _ literally holding the body of our mentor _ \--”

Dream got back to his story, making no other comment. Then, as Nightmare knew well, his night terror was recounted. The memory of all the carcasses. The blood and dust. Then seeing Nightmare hunched over with one of the dark apples, eating the last one to finish his corruption. Wings turning black and Dream blacking out before waking up a hundred years later. The pain from the new demon wings fresh. Limbs cramped. A new phobia of cramped spaces discovered.

Nightmare was slow to stand when the story finished, rather wanting to let Dream bask in this rare moment of genuine positivity. Add a little more to that ego before letting it crash down.

“Oh my,” He let out a small laugh, standing up from his seat as a tendril gently grabbed Dream, dragging him back into his seat. “So much left out. So, SO much. You did surprise me, I’ll have to say. Although that was only in how little you knew. You actually said less than I thought you would!”

The positive guardian’s confusion was visible, and it continued to feed Nightmare steadily. Everyone else in the room looked at him shocked.

“If we’re finally going to share this story, we might as well start from the very begging.” Nickolas’s voice rang out, near sing-song. “Afterall, I’m tired of this weight. It is only fair you, as well as everyone else knew what truly happened. Wouldn’t you agree, Declan?”

Dream began to visibly shake, refusing to remember back to that point.

“Let’s return to where it all started. You, me, and a dinky. Little. Hospital room.”


	9. Our story

“I’m surprised you so easily forgot about it, completely dismissing where we first met.” Nightmare let the gurgle of corruption calm, voice clearing. Sounding young but phrasing and grammar mature, “After all, we spent years in that ward, your hair grew so long in that time, don’t you remember?”

“I thought we had a silent agreement to never recount to  _ then _ .” Dream growled, body visibly tense.

“Well, we’re all a little uncomfortable here, aren’t we? I mean, I literally drowned in my own blood filling my lungs.” The dark king flinched, swallowing, phantom pains of a tear in his throat, “And your heart was compressed by a tumor,” The darker directed a tendril at Dream’s soul, right in his assumption that they shared the phantom pains. Declan putting a hand over his chest, flinching. Aura peaking with sparks of pain.

“Wait, so how are you guys still alive??” Horror interrupted, Nightmare remembering himself and pulling out of his early memories, reminding himself that things have changed. That he’s beating a dead horse at this point. That he has a family to care for now.

“Well, technically, we aren’t.” The dark king’s normal voice returned, his boys further confused, “Once upon a time, the two fo were human. I died, my wings came in and grew, and then some years later Dream-or should I say, Declan-joined me in Reaper’s realm. I’m glad he kept our little secret though.”

“Then the spirit asked for our help and we were turned from humans to skeletons-”

“-As I’ve told you all,” Nightmare swiftly cut off, looking to his gang, “The events of the tree happened. Our mentor asked for our help in protecting the tree of feelings. We were given new souls that were the embodiment of emotions and our teacher’s body became one with the tree.” Nickolas used another tendril to open the curtains of the window, a view to their great garden and the lively but appleless tree growing strong and replanted in the center of the garden.

Taking in a deep breath with shaky dead lungs, the negative spirit continued:   
  
“The village decided since I was the sole protector of the negative emotions I was the root of all their problems… I took their abuse for years until I huge group ganged up on me. In a fruitful effort, I ate almost all the apples… My wings turned black and I quickly went insane with the power. Although Dec’ managed to save one of the positive apples, which I’m happy about.

“Otherwise this world would be cast in darkness and there would be no light, and I wouldn’t have been able to regain my sanity. I don’t remember much, but I do remember nearly killing you,” He returned his attention to Dream, “Although I managed to turn you into stone instead, stone that was immune to my attacks… keeping you alive.”

The silence calmed him, the cold freezing his nerves, the weight lifted. A new freedom from his overbearing past discovered.

“Now you’re forgetting something.” Dream smirked, taking one last hit at Nightmare’s pride, “The apples  _ corrupted _ you. ALL of you. Turning your white bones black… I miss being the taller one, to be honest. Your passive form was so short and cute-”

Shoving a hand over Declan’s mouth Nickolas visibly blushed, embarrassed about his weaker self. The gang looking at him with puppy eyes.

“...Dream.  _ Please tell us you have pictures _ .” Cross gasped, eye lights shaping into a hearts. The positive nodding to the best of his ability.

“ _ It doesn’t matter what I looked like- _ ” He growled out, dark blue-purple blush brightening further, “What matters if we’re able to conclude all of this. Protecting the balances is what matters most.”

“You’ve never seemed so content with being good and protecting the multiverse before.” Ink spoke, raising an eyebrow. Eyes emotionless for the time being and uncaring.

“We had to keep our masks on, we’ve  _ tried _ acting normal before, every time we show any good to us you call us liars and manipulating.” Error explained, Blue nodding enthusiastically.

“So what do you propose?” Ink asked, leaning back into the chair. Relaxing as much as he could with his enemies.

“Stay with us for a week. The room you stay in will be unlocked. We’ll continue as normal, and then you can see how bad we really are.” Killer tried, shrugging. A smile on his face and his single eyelight lit. Content. “Dad?”

Dream and Ink’s eyes snapped over to Nightmare.

“I suppose that could work,” The negative sighed, finally taking his hand off Dream’s mouth, “No pranks or fighting though, no dessert for the rest of the week they’re here if you do.” Nightmare crossed his arms, already falling back into his parental role.

There was a collective sigh and agreeance across the gang, and the negative guardian gave a gentle smile. Further confusing the star duo much to their delight. It was going to be a fun week.


	10. Better

“Okay, hold up- Dad?!” Declan exclaimed, heavily confused. “When- and how??!” The gang looked at him for a moment, before laughing.

“Have you ever  _ seen _ how much of a parent he is?” Horror managed to say over all of the laughter, “He dotes over us all day, he is the permanent Dad of all of us- But… Error’s a close second.”

“Excuse me-” Error spoke up, “This old geezer makes  _ me _ take care of myself most of the time, and I don’t need to do any of that-”

“It’s still good to be healthy- and don’t you dare start that ‘I’m basically a God’ stuff with me again!” Nightmare started to scold until he realized what his boys just did, “ ...fair point.”

“So. Nightmare, or Nickolas. Whatever your name is. Is actually a gentle scolding Dad.” Ink started to think aloud, “Error is also a Dad to everyone.” He continued, “And all of you underneath the crazy insane murder personas are just normal people??”

“For the most part, yeah.” Cross smiled, “I mean, unlike normal people, we all still have our problems and occasional relapse back into insanity or depression- but otherwise you’re hitting the nail of its head.”

Dream and Ink connected their eyes for a moment, just confirming with the other what they just heard, before trying so speak again. Only to get interrupted by Nightmare.

“Before you ask, yes. Once upon a time, we all were the crazy insane people the multiverse saw us as. During one of my own breaks from insanity, I started to help the gang, and with the motivation of helping them out of their own hells, I braved my way out of mine. Cross was a huge help, however, the only one of us to never have been insane.” The dark King concluded, wrapping a tendril around the monochrome’s wrist as Dust Horror and Killer gave him a strong hug.

“But Fresh was never as anyone depicted him,” Error spoke up again, nodding his head to the healing skeleton, “People were just afraid of him because he was born with his soul in his eye instead of his chest.” The glitch explained as Fresh shyly nodded, confirming what he had said.

“This is gonna be a weird week.” Dream deadpanned.

  
  


\-----

  
  


True to what his old friend had said, the week was weird, and to no one’s surprise, fairly chaotic. However, the last few days, everything calmed down, then one week turned to two. Two turned to four. A month turned into several. Before they knew it, Dream and Ink were apart of the family and had their own rooms in the castle.

At first, it was weird having them around, just watching them be normal, but soon they noticed things. How Dream hated the smaller rooms in the mansion. How Ink struggled to talk with any of them or stay in some of the more empty rooms of the castle. The little things like how Dream spent all his extra time in the training room or exercising. Or why in the world the most common place to find either of them would be a balcony somewhere.

Blue was more than happy to enlighten them. The small problems he couldn’t manage to help them with no matter how much he tried.

Dream’s claustrophobia, how he physically doesn’t know how to relax and refuses to. Ink’s social awkwardness and fear of empty spaces. More importantly, their little bad habit of smoking to vent their stress and fear.

Soon, Nightmare found out about these and more in their Night Terrors. Both of them confused about why he was helping. Every time they’d ask. He would only gently smile and encourage them to open up. It wasn’t long before he got both of them journals, a way to vent without any harm to oneself or someone else.

The rest of the gang was helpful as well. Helping them through Nightmares or panic attacks and fears. Catching them when they go outside for a smoke, handing them their journal or giving them a Lolipop.

Sadly, Dream still clung to all of his fears and bad habits. Not wanting things to change. Only accepting help when Nightmare forced him to. Changing reactions to closed spaces. Closed but loose hugs. Making Declan sit down and read for a few hours. Making sure that whenever Dream felt the need to smoke he would go to Nightmare instead.

“Nick?” The dark King dropped what he was doing and focused on his old friend, “Can… may I stay with you for a bit…?”

“Of course Dec’.” He smiled gently, “Do you need anything or just want to sit in here?”

“... a hug would be nice.” The positive avoided his eyes.

Nightmare was quick to put away the paperwork he had been working on, grabbing the book he had been reading instead, going to sit on one of the couches in the room, and pulling Dream over with him.

Carefully, and slowly as to not trigger the other, he pulled Dream into a hug, letting the other cuddle into him as his dark wings draped over Dream. The positive was quick to relax in his arms, soon peacefully falling asleep.

As Nightmare began to read, the calm snores of the younger in his eardrums, he could swear Dream’s pair of angel wings grew a little, finally letting go of the negatively he held for so long.

Things would get better. They would get better.


End file.
